Flora
Since Sean mentioned the f word, I didn't know how it was possible but I loved him even more. This wasn't only the most responsible and devoted boyfriend, but he was also the guy that I thought of a future with...despite the fact that future wasn't looking very exciting at the moment.
It was a shame that in order to achieve forever, we didn't have many fun dates anymore. Sean thought we had a lifetime to try new things and at this moment in life he was too busy to start, or maybe he was just lazy and it was easy to settle into a routine. His idea of a perfect date was one that included me, but didn't involve dressing up and staying out too late, and one that was comfortable.
Translation: stay home, talk and have sex (optional).
Speaking of sex, Sean thought of it the way he thought of food. He just wanted to get it out of the way. He wanted that last few seconds of ecstasy just like he wanted to battle his hunger in the most efficient way possible, with ready-to-go fast food. He had no patience to sit at a French restaurant for three hours, just like he didn't want to explore my body anymore, the way he did in the beginning like a new computer program he got his hands on.
I mostly went along with whatever he wanted to do (which was nothing, by the way) because I knew he really was tired from all his basketball games and studying, and I wanted to be supportive. I agreed that as long as we were together it didn't matter where we went, but deep down I still felt (a little) like I was making sacrifices, therefore I would fight with him about all kinds of irrelevant things. I was constantly facing an internal conflict where I chose to put his needs before mine then got mad later, thinking he should make more of an effort to do my things, then I'd recover knowing that I overreacted, and I'd try harder to be a better girlfriend and cut him some slack. In the end we were always more in love than ever, but life had become a grinding wheel of doing the right thing.
To be perfectly honest, the idea of forever was hot, but practicing towards this concept wasn't that hot, at all.
I was in my room watching a silly drama TV series one night. I knew it wasn't a masterpiece, on top of being corny and predictable, but sometimes I watched it not in spite of but more like because of its cheesiness. Cheesy dramas and reality TV are like potato chips: poorly-made, hazardous to health, but having them once in a while can make a person very happy.
Sean was sitting next to me furiously clicking away on his laptop as he worked on his college application essay. I peered at his screen and saw he was writing about the person he admired the most, and it was his grandfather.
While most kids fished with their gramps, Sean probably built a dam with his. He was describing how they put together a toy boat and won a contest later, during which all the kids had to float their boats down a river and his made it the farthest downstream.
I wished I had a charming experience like that to report too. My grandparents lived in London, and every time I visited we'd have tea in one of those extravagant hotels like The Ritz or Claridge's and have freshly baked scones with clotted cream from Devonshire, and we always finished off afterwards with a trip to Harvey Nichols. I doubted the college administration offices would be impressed with that.
"That's totally cheating," I said out of envy. "You had a physics professor helping you while those other poor kids had to fold their boats out of paper and color them with crayons just so they wouldn't sink. Yours probably had a motor."
He chuckled. "Yes, it had a motor and it was remote-controlled. I could've floated it upstream if I wanted."
How clever to weave that little detail into his essay so he could underhandedly brag about his engineering potentials. It was clear Sean had his life planned out--the science projects at school, interning at labs during summer, AP classes, his perfect SAT scores and the stupid USAPhO that we almost lost each other over--while I had been very liberal about my own choices.
I said I wanted to be a fashion editor but it was only because I liked reading Vogue and I wanted to dip my hands into a new line before anyone else, and perhaps one day someone could make a movie about me titled "The Devil Wears Alexander McQueen/Marc Jacobs/Chanel/Rag and Bone", but since meeting Sean I knew it wasn't really my dream.
My dream was Sean. Ironically, however, I knew he'd respect me less if I told him that. He'd be horrified if I threw away my dream following him to Boston, although that would actually be chasing my dream.
Why does everyone have to become doctors and lawyers and engineers? Why couldn't my ambition be staying perpetually in love with this gorgeous, perfect boy and possibly marry him when I turned 28? He was harder to come across than an ideal job.
I was only seventeen; did I really have to figure out what I wanted to do with life right now? I knew Sean didn't want to feel responsible for stranding me in his city in case we, God forbid, broke up, but I could very well find out that I didn't like interning at a fashion magazine either, and I'd be stranded in NYC with an agonizing long distance relationship-which was why I'd do anything in my power to prevent that from happening.
I went ahead and applied to Boston University. While I was at it, I also tried a few schools in California. I figured I could explore acting as well, or I could at least become a waitress who dreamed of acting; I bet California was packed with those.
I didn't let Sean know and I did this willingly, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little hurt he wouldn't even consider Columbia. I dismissed the thought quickly. It was a dangerous path to go down on, and I refused to compare everything we had to sacrifice for each other because it'd just make me angry.
"Is it weird I feel closer to my granddad than to my parents?" Sean's velvety voice cut into my thoughts. "He's the guy who taught me about the philosophy of life."
"Oh. So he's the reason you're so unbearably good," I teased.
"Well, he has a lot more morals than the show you're watching, that's for certain," he glanced at the TV screen and said, in an equally good-natured tone. It was typical of him to criticize the things I watched, and if I was in a good mood I sometimes found it cute.
But not always.
"Why's that? This is a show about love and courage."
"Every time two people are left in private for five seconds, they start making out. Even if they're supposed to be unavailable. Is that even possible?"
"That's because they don't want to show them staring at each other for two hours before making out. I'm not watching a documentary here."
"I think these people are easier to maneuver than E.Coli in a bio lab."
Only Sean could talk about E.Coli during a kiss scene. "Maybe you can watch one full episode with me, and you'll understand. You can tell me which character you like the most!" That could be sort of fun, I decided. I was sure he would come up with some very interesting input.
"These characters are two-dimensional and they're all the same besides hair color." He combed his fingers through my hair, and he smiled his sexy smile at me. "I like brunettes, by the way."
I chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Fine, you're off the hook."
I watched for a while, then I was suddenly bored. "There's an ABC party tonight. Do you want to go? ABC means Anything But Clothes. Basically people need to find other materials to cover up their bodies, you know, such as duct tape."
Sean looked up briefly from his laptop. "Is this a trick question or do I really get to decide if I want to go?"
"We'll go only if you really want to go." I never forced Sean into anything he wasn't comfortable with. He was an ABC party virgin, after all.
"Okay, then, not really." Surprise, surprise. "Why would I want to go to an ABC party when I can be ABC in your room? And I want to finish my essay tonight." There. The real reason.
"Fine." I sighed.
"Do you want popcorn? I can make you popcorn," he offered. He meant the microwave package he brought over, which was cheap and really awful, a poor substitution for an ABC party indeed. I liked caramel flavor, but usually only about one-fifth of the popcorn had caramel on, and all the rest were nightmarishly bland and soft.
"Yeah, okay," I agreed listlessly. "You can have the most of it, though. I just want an occasional one to chew on."
He left for the kitchen while I watched on. It was Friday night and I was stuck home eating soggy popcorn with my very sexy but very cynical, essay-writing, party-hating boyfriend, and I could think of a million better things to do.
When he came back he snuggled next to me and started feeding me. I smiled in appreciation. Amazingly the popcorn wasn't as bad as I feared. I had eaten maybe eight in a row, and all of them were caramel-glazed and quite crunchy.
I told him about my finding. "I'm pleasantly surprised!"
"Is that so?" he asked in a nonchalant tone as he proceeded to feed me, and that was when I noticed the reason I got good popcorn was because it was the premium selection.
I could feel my eyes widen with delight. "Did you pick out the especially good ones to feed me?"
"You're so cute like that." He smiled. "I know you like caramel."
So suddenly it had become the best date-night ever. Sean and his cute little maneuvers never ceased to melt me like butter in a microwave oven. When he attempted to feed me again, I grabbed his wrist and obnoxiously nibbled on his index finger to annoy him, and he laughed as he pulled his hand away.
"Gross. Watch your show."
I lay my head on his shoulder, and we watched together for ten sweet minutes before he decided to ruin everything.
"They seem to promote a corruption of virtue," Sean said, popping a popcorn into his mouth. "They make it okay to go behind the best friend's back and cheat with the boyfriend just because you can't fight love."
Who else were they supposed to fall in love with? There were only six characters in total. Every female character needed to have a go at all the male characters before the season ended. "Well, it's kind of logical. She sees the boyfriend a lot because they all hang out together."
"Really? I wouldn't develop a crush on Sandy or Carmen even if you throw us in an incubator together." He started typing on his computer again.
"That's good to know." Okay, maybe I was the one who ruined it. "So how come you're convinced I'll cheat on you if I hang out with any one of my guy friends?"
He froze for a second then he let out an exasperated sigh. "This again? You really want to fight about this now?"
His impatience summoned the rebel inside me instantly. "Maybe, because then this would be a real date. Sitting at home, you judging me on the shows I like to watch, and fighting about my commitment issues sound like the perfect combo."
"You seemed to have fun when you were sucking on my finger twenty minutes ago."
"It's just..." I exhaled, blowing a strand of hair off my face. "This is really boring."
When he turned sarcastic, it was when he really started to get mad. "Let's go spray paint under a bridge right now."
"I told you about those things but it's not for you to use against me!"
"I'm not..." He shook his head and pushed a hand through his hair. "Flora, what's this really about? Why are we fighting all the time?"
I wish I know, I thought as I looked down and concentrated on the contour of the popcorn. All the rest left in the paper bag were pale and stripped of caramel, completely unattractive.
I used to imagine a relationship as oysters and pearls, this hallmark dish of Thomas Keller's Michelin restaurant. The exquisite, buttery taste of the oysters and the Sterling white sturgeon caviar went together in harmony, like they were holding hands and singing a duet, and every bite tasted better than the last. But now, as I gazed absently at the white, fluffy popcorn, I realized that this was more like a real relationship. One had to eat through maybe a hundred of those to get to a few good ones.
"I feel like we're eighty and living at a retirement house," I said. "I want to do stuff I used to do with other guys, things that make me feel young and carefree and crazy. All you do is lecture me."
Sean snapped his laptop shut before he turned to me. He made sure he saved his draft first, of course.
"Flora, your guy friends call you up for fun when they feel like it, because they don't care about what kind of trouble you get yourself into. I can't be just about fun and going along with whatever you say. I have more things to consider." He rubbed his temples. "If you really want to go to a party we'll go, but don't pretend you're fine with it at first then pick a fight with me later."
I bit on my lip and said nothing at first. I felt so immature. "I don't want to drag you to a party against your will, and now you've ruined my mood to go completely," I mumbled, and deep down I knew it wasn't even about the party. I didn't know what we were fighting about anymore. "Sometimes you really get on my nerves."
He didn't reply right away and I knew I had gone too far. I wanted to say something to undo it, but as usual Sean's silence scared me. I watched him, his eyes darkening as he contemplated his next move.
"Well...would you feel better if I left?" he said finally, his tone more defeated than angry. "I can see myself out."
He had never walked out on me before. By the end of every date we were always reluctant to let go, hoping to squeeze in one more kiss before the final goodbye. I burst into tears out of shock. "I don't want you to go. I want you here with me!"
As the tears ran down my face, falling and tripping into my silk top, I wanted to slap myself. I would never deliberately cry to win a fight, I mean, that seemed so out of the point. I wasn't fighting to win. Heck, most of the time I wasn't even sure why I picked a fight with him.
I could've come right out and asked him to go to the party with me, and Sean would've said yes. I could've called Jessica and Sarah and asked them to come with me, since an ABC party was something right up their alley. I could've gone myself. I could do all these things, yet I chose to stay in with Sean and got mad at him because he didn't jump at the chance of going out, even though I knew in the first place that was the kind of person he was.
Perhaps I was the kind of difficult person that was initially easy to get along with, and in the middle of it I'd reach a phase where I tested him all the time, and after that I would be back to normal and we would be solid and permanent.
Even something as dull as water has three states; surely we as humans are more complex than that?
I decided that's what it was. I was going through a phase, a mid-relationship crisis where I became teary and difficult, even though I had every intention to remain poised, understanding and likable so Sean wouldn't stop loving me.
As soon as he saw me cry, he backed down instantly as always. His urge to comfort me kicked in, but for the first time I wondered if he'd develop a resistance to these urges over time.
"Okay, okay, then I'll stay," he stammered, brushing at my face clumsily. "Don't cry, please? I'm sorry I said that."
I nodded, telling myself to stop acting like a psycho bitch and pull myself together. When I finally calmed down, Sean looked at me tentatively, like he was about to ask me for a big loan. "Flora, I think...are you unhappy with me?"
"No!" My eyes widened with horror. "I don't want to break up!"
"That's not what I'm suggesting. I just think...you seem dissatisfied, and I know I'm too boring for you. You want a more spontaneous and fun partner," he stated very calmly like it was a fact not up for dispute.
But he was The King. Who ever heard of a king who was spontaneous and fun? He needed to be noble, honest, wise, and had integrity, which was Sean all the way. "The King does not need to change," I said.
"I don't feel like the king very much these days with you biting my head off all the time. I feel more like a mantis," he said, and after seeing the blank look on my face, he explained, "You know the female mantis always bites off the head of the male after mating."
I laughed despite myself. That was so him. Telling me biology trivia in the middle of a fight. "You really are an adorable nerd."
"Flora, I've always been a nerd. I told you the first time you said you liked me. I told you I'm boring and I study a lot, and that I'm not romantic and exciting, remember? You said you didn't believe me."
I nodded. "I remember, and I remember thinking just sitting with you alone in a room feels very romantic and exciting already."
He exhaled. "So what has changed? Do I turn out to be below expectation?" He looked hurt. "You can be honest with me. Do you like me more as a crush than a boyfriend?"
"Of course not! I like you much more now...you're stricter as a boyfriend, but you're also sweeter and more caring than I ever imagined. You're an exceptional boyfriend. You actually far exceed my expectation." And of course there were certain things he would only do as a boyfriend.
He smiled tightly. "Then what's the matter? I don't really mind that you get mad at me a lot. I'm just worried you're not happy."
"I think...I've become greedier." That's it, I realized suddenly. "Before we got together, whenever you so much as looked in my direction I got such a thrill. I'd be happy just getting your call or discussing history with you. I had the most amazing time when I was drying dishes with you and you kissed me on the cheek. Sandy said you had no balls, by the way, but I thought it was such a cute thing to do."
"It's got nothing to do with balls. It's called self-restraint," he corrected.
"Yeah, I know, but since we got back together I want more of you, like, all the time. I want to do everything with you, and it's never enough. I miss you so much when you're not here, and when you're with me I want everything to be superb. I mean, if you were just a random guy I wouldn't care if every date is the best in history, but I guess I just expect more from you. Do I make any sense?"
"I get it." He nodded. "You're saying you give me a hard time because you love me. I can live with that. Being angry is better than disappointed. At least you care enough to fight with me, right?"
Was it my imagination or did Sean actually seem quite pleased? He was all optimistic, like fighting a lot was a good indicator of proper communication.
"Yeah, it's because I love you," I said, which was the truth, "and I didn't know that being in love would make me so out of control. So needy and insane. You're like some sort of hard drugs that don't sit well with me."
He laughed. "Hey, you are the drug and I'm addicted." After he delivered this lame line which he stole from the drama we just watched, I could tell Sean was blissfully unaware again, convinced that all we needed was love. Perhaps he was right, because after all he was always right.
He brushed at my hair and played around with a strand, then he turned his gaze back to my face, all indulgent and earnest, and I was once again sucked into those gentle pools of blue, completely defenseless. "Baby, this is me at the most," he said. "I know it's not much, but I love you and I'll never betray you. I hope that's enough."
I nodded and pulled my lips into a smile. "That's enough," I echoed, and I kept telling myself that.
That's enough.
That's enough.
He really was a wonderful guy and we loved each other. How could that not be enough?